


Terrible Things

by ohmyspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyspn/pseuds/ohmyspn
Summary: A hunt brings back memories of hell causing Dean to drink (more than usual) and not be able to sleep. All things leading up to an accident that lands him in the hospital.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on my story! Sorry I'm bad at summaries and thinking of titles. 
> 
>  
> 
> *WARNING* Drinking and driving.

Dean sits up straight in his bed. Breathing heavy with a layer of sweat all over his body.

He looks around his room to reassure himself he’s safe. He’s not in hell. He’s in his room, in the bunker, with Sam down the hall. He’s safe.

He takes a couple minutes to slow down his breathing. Then he lays back down, closes his eyes, and tries to get comfortable again.

He tosses and turns for about an hour, till he finally decides just to give up. There’s no chance of falling back to sleep tonight.

He gets out of bed and throws on a different t-shirt and grabs his jacket.

Dean reaches for the doorknob to his room and turns it. Then slowly opens the door, hoping it wouldn’t creak too loud and wake Sam.

He successfully escapes his room without a sound and heads for the garage, grabbing the keys on the way out.

He just needs to clear his head.

 

Dean finds himself at a crappy roadside bar with two empty beer bottles in front of him. He was just about to wave down the bartender for another one when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He digs it out and the screen illuminates with a text from Sammy.

_WHERE THE HELL R U?_

Half tempted to reply with some smart-ass comment and, half tempted not to respond at all. But as much as he wanted to piss Sam off some more, he just respond…

_coming home now._

Dean knew Sam wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. Which makes Dean dread going back home knowing Sam will bombard him with a bunch of stupid questions the second his foot crosses the door.

That thought makes him change his mind and order another beer.

 

Sam got up early and went down the hall to Dean’s room, which was empty. Not that surprising. This has been a routine thing lately. Dean getting up in the middle of the night and leaving, going who knows where. Then coming back at random hours in the morning half hung over.

Sam sent him a text and received a very vague answer back. If only he knew where he was, he wouldn't be as worried that he would do something stupid.

He knows why Dean does this. Ever since they got back from a hunt involving some demon, Dean has been acting a little off. Sam sometimes hears him pace around the bunker at night. Who knows the last time he actually got more than 3 hours of sleep at night?

 

Dean finished the third beer and tipped the bartender, before getting up and starts fingering the keys in his pockets.

“Sir, you sure you’re all right to drive? I can call you a cab.” The bartender says clearing the empty bottles on the bar.

“It’s all right. I have a friend picking me up.” Dean lies. He doesn't have time for a cab. And there was no way he was leaving his car at this run down joint with a bunch of crazy drunk loons walking in and out. Also, the alcohol was just barely invading the clarity in his mind. If he was really that drunk, he would have called Sam.

 

By the time Sam made coffee and breakfast, it has been an hour since Dean said he was coming home.

He debated on calling him or tracking the GPS in his phone. But knowing Dean he wouldn't answer and he probably has his location settings turned off. Sam decided to call him anyways.

He waited as it rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, his voicemail answered and Sam hung up, not even bothering leaving a message. It’s not like Dean would check it anytime soon.

 

Dean felt his phone vibrating in his pocket as he unlocked the Impala and climbed in. He didn't have to check to know it was Sam calling, so he didn’t even bother taking his phone out of his pocket.

He turned the key and listened as the engine roared to life. The radio was playing some old classic rock song; he recognized the music but couldn't think of the name of it. He backed out of the run down bar’s parking lot and pulled out on to the deserted country road.

The rustling of the rocks getting kicked out behind the Impala’s wheels as it took on more road relaxed Dean. The sun was just starting to rise in the distant and his mind started to wonder about the last hunt he and Sam went on. It was a couple weeks ago but it was still fresh in his mind. And ever since they got back Dean was not in the mood to go on another hunt anytime soon. Sam probably picked up on his mood because he hasn't even bothered to ask.

Dean feels as his eyes get harder and harder to keep open, probably from the lack of sleep and abundant amount of alcohol consumed in the last couple days. He fights it and looks down and sees a water bottle that fell on the ground on the passenger side. He tries to snatch it quickly, accidentally causing the car to swerve a little. He finally gets a hold of the water bottle and starts to sit up straight when he hears a deep horn blow. When his eyes find the road again, he’s blinded by the bright lights of a semi coming straight on.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s consciousness flutters between light and dark. One second he can see lights, red and blue. The next second, only darkness. He hears a high pitched sound piercing his hears, then it goes away and all he can hear are sirens and people, then the high pitched sound returns.

He fights to keep his mind focused long enough to open his eyes for more than a second but in the end fails. Dean wants to move, but he can’t get enough energy too, between the sudden burst of pain through out his body.

 

_“I’ll take upstairs.” Sam whispered to Dean as he heads up the stairs of the run-down, abandoned house._

_Each step Dean takes makes an obnoxious creaking sound against the old, moldy, wood floors. He found himself walking as slow as possible trying to avoid the creaking, but in the end causing no difference._

_Flash light and gun in hand he entered the rusty, 60’s styled, kitchen that smelled like rotten everything. The first thing that caught Dean’s eye was the dark, blood stain on the corner of the table._

_Before he could take another step, he heard someone breathing right behind him._

 

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Sam Smith?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, this is nurse Benson from Roberts Memorial Hospital. We have a Dean Smith that just came in to the E.R., this was the only number on the—“

“Wait. What?” Sam felt his heart suddenly drop in his chest. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Mr. Dean Smith came in about a half hour ago in critical condition. I’m sorry to say I have not been notified any further on his current state, from what I assume he came from the site of a serve car accident.”

Sam held his breath. He could hear as the nurse’s voice subdued softly. He let out his breath as he bit his tongue. What the hell was Dean doing? He would never crash his car.

“Um…” Sam realized he was still on the phone with the nurse. He felt like he should say something, but words did not seem to want to come out easily. His mind started rushing through all the possible situations that could have gone down today that would cause Dean to land in the hospital.

“I understand this news is hard to hear? Is he your brother?” The nurse cut out the silence.

“Ur… yea— yes.” Sam found it hard to think straight. “Uh, wha— what is the address of the hospital?”

The nurse answered in a calm voice as Sam jotted it down on an old napkin. Then he abruptly hung up the phone and headed towards the garage.

 

Sam jumped into a car and headed out, speeding down the quiet country road that had very few visitors besides Sam and Dean. The gravel kicked out from under the tires making loud clanking sounds as he drove. He finally pulled on to the main road, that still had very few cars on it.

His mind was still racing. What the hell was Dean thinking? Getting in a car accident doesn't sound like him? Unless someone was specifically targeting him. Which was very possible with all the enemies they make doing their job.

That thought made him worry even more. Who would be out to get him? A couple possible suspects came to mind, but all seem very unlikely regarding the current time and place, and not to mention how the heck would they find Dean when Sam could barely track him.

The 20 minute ride to the hospital felt like a century had passed.

Sam slammed the breaks the second he hit a parking spot and sprinted inside the small town hospital.

He stopped at the nurses station where he read the name tag of an elder, kind looking nurse, Nurse Benson. She looked up from her work and smiled. “How may I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for Dean Win— Smith.” Sam shrugged it off, “Smith, Dean Smith.”

“Oh, you must be the brother I talked to on the phone.”

Sam didn’t really feel like dealing with this old lady’s small talk. He just wanted to know his brother was ok. He smiled and nodded.

“He’s in surgery right now, I still haven't been updated with anymore news. I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help at the moment. Um, feel free to take a seat in the waiting room, there’s some coffee and vending machines down the hall to the right.” She smiled.

Really? Shit-taste coffee and over priced, vending machine candy is not what he really cares to know about right now. But Sam took a deep breath and didn’t even bother returning the fake, friendly smile. Instead he turned his back and headed towards the signs that read ‘Waiting Room’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading and leaving kudos. Once again, comments always welcomed because I would love to hear what you think about this so far. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Sam sat there watching the clock tick away. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned in hours. 3 hours later, a doctor finally came out to talk to him.

 

“Mr. Smith?” He called in a solemn voice throughout the waiting room.

 

Sam stood up slowly. Part of him wanted to run over to him and ask how his brother is and part of him didn't want to hear the answer.

 

“Mr. Smith?” The doctor asks once Sam got closer.

 

“Y-yes. How’s Dean?” Sam’s voice shakes.

 

“He sustained chest contusions when he came in. We took him to trauma. He had multiple arrhythmias. We put in two chest tubes to help him breath.” The doctor looked down at his clip board, “he also has a broken clavicle as well as a dislocated shoulder, those not as serious. He did as well suffer a fractured femur, which he under went surgery on to put back in place. All things look well at the moment. We are worried though about his head. There’s a mass on the left side indicating a strong force was impacted to it. He hasn’t woken up yet from the surgeries, but when he does, we can get a better assessment about his head.”

 

Dean has suffered a lot of injuries before, but right now it just felt like the doctor just read him the entire Gray’s Anatomy.

 

“C-can I see him?” Sam asked.

 

“Of course, but he’s not awake yet. And when he does wake up, we don’t know what to expect because of his head injury—“

 

“Yeah..” Sam didn’t want to hear anymore about the hundred-and-one ways Dean’s condition can get worst.

 

The doctor sensed Sam’s impatiences, “He’s in room 137, a nurse can show you the way.”

 

 

Sam followed a nurse down the hallway to room 137.

 

Dean was lying on the bed in the middle of the room, motionless. He was hooked up to so many tubes and machines. It hurt Sam to see him like this. To see him so injured and helpless.

 

“You can go in.” The nurse said.

 

Sam didn’t even realize he hasn't went inside the room yet. He was just standing outside the doorway.

 

He gave a quick nod to the nurse and stepped inside.

 

He took a step closer, and the closer he got the more Sam realized how hurt Dean was. His left eye was bruised and swollen. Him arm wrapped in a sling. Tubes coming out of him chest, as well as his nose. Wires connecting his heart to machines that gave off a steady beeping.

 

Sam blinked a tear away from his eye. If Dean saw him, he would have punched him.

 

 

Moments later a nurse came in to check Dean’s vitals and stuff. She asked Sam if he needed anything. Well, he needed his brother to wake up and be fine. To make a smart-ass comment about being in a hospital. To argue with Sam about letting these doctors poke and prod at him. And for him to be more concern about him car then himself, because theoretically, he will be fine. But the nurse can’t get him that so he just shrugged her off and told her he was fine.

 

 

That night, Sam fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair next Dean’s bed. He was surprised the nurses didn't try to kick him out, but was thankful they didn’t because he was not going to leave Dean’s side anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, when he woke up, Dean was gone. So much for him not leaving his side.

 

Panic was the first thing that arose in him. Where the hell did they take him? And more importantly, why?

 

Right when he was about to get up and look for someone to ask, the doctor from yesterday walked in.

 

“Your brother is fine, if you are wondering.” The doctor said, reading the fear in Sam’s face. “He was pretty stable earlier, so we took him up for a C.T.”

 

Sam could breath again.

 

The doctor continued then, “The results didn’t give us any important indictors of anything too serious, no bleeding, or skull fracture, or anything. But that doesn’t always mean nothings wrong. So I don’t want to give any false hope out. Dean will be back down any minute now.”

 

With that, his pager went off and the doctor excused himself and hurried off.

 

 

As promise, Dean was rolled back into the room, looking the same as the day before.

 

“Is he- will he- umm… wake up?” He asked the nurse checking the clip board at the end of the bed.

 

“Only time will tell, sorry hun.” She said, then left.

 

_Wow, could she be a little more vague?_

 

 

Sam’s stomach growled, and as much he hated leaving Dean alone, he also didn’t want to starve to death next to him. He got up and started to head towards the door. Suddenly, the silence of room was interrupted by a dry cough followed by the deep, rough voice of Dean saying, “S’mmy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for staying with me. Sorry it took so long to update. I was busy and I also wanted to make this kind of realistic, so I wanted to do some research on injuries and stuff (and when I say research, I mean I watched a couple episodes of Grey's Anatomy. That's as realistic as I'm going to get, sorry I'm not a doctor, hahaha).
> 
> Well, I hope you all enjoyed it so far. :) As always, feel free to leave kudos and comments, (especially on any grammar errors you might see. I check it a couple times, but always seem to miss stuff, lol.) Thanks again for reading! It means a lot, and I will try my best to update sooner, sorry I kind of left it on a cliff hanger.


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